


Soft

by twss



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Body Image, Body Worship, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Creampie, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Rimming, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tender Sex, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twss/pseuds/twss
Summary: Aziraphale is scared to have sex and show his body. Crowley makes him feel sexy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 235





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination of my Ode to Michael Sheen's body, dealing with my own body image issues, and when Neil Gaiman said Aziraphale and Crowley were originally one character.

_Soft._

That’s how he felt since the Abotcholypse. Or, more specifically, since his displeasing jog with Gabriel. He hadn’t considered the humanoid changes his corporation had gone through over the years until that moment. He knew he had a particular shape but it didn’t bother him before. Of course, there was never anyone to impress back then. There was never anyone to _make an Effort for._

But now there was Crowley. Of course, Crowley had always been there and Aziraphale would be lying if he said he’d never thought about the prospect of sex with him throughout the centuries. However, it wasn’t hard to ignore when you didn’t have an Effort. Sex was only a theory, previously. Something Aziraphale dimly wondered about but never planned on pursuing. He wouldn't want to with a human. He valued deep connections and could never forge one with someone so… _mortal._ It was never a possibility to be with Crowley. Until it was. 

A very real possibility just a day after the dinner at the Ritz. That was the day Crowley had kissed him for the first time. It was also the Beginning of Their Official Relationship. Aziraphale adored it, adored him. After one passionate night of making out Aziraphale had decided that he would prefer to have a penis. So, he did. 

It hadn’t led anywhere _near that._ But he simply enjoyed the sensation of Crowley’s hard length rubbing against his own in between slacks and tight skinny jeans. Things escalated with Crowley a lot but he never pushed him. 

“Wait, Crowley,” Aziraphale panted. He laid on his couch, Crowley on top of him, long legs twisted in between his own. It was only a couple weeks after the Beginning of Their Official Relationship. Crowley was leaving hickey after hickey on his neck. He had started beneath his ear, on his jaw. He would always begin with a soft kiss that gradually grew to something more fierce. He’d lave his tongue on his target spot with a focused intensity, mouthing the whole time. Next, he would nip and suck until he was satisfied with the appearing bruise. A blossoming pink flower on milky skin. Afterwards he’d move only an inch away and start all over again. 

Aziraphale liked it, of course he did. It made him squirm underneath him and feel tingly all over. What he didn’t like was how Crowley’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own at this point. Although they would start in his hair or on his jaw or chin, they had a habit of slowly migrating to other places. 

To his neck. That was fine, he liked the feeling of breathing underneath Crowley’s thumb. It made him feel awfully human and alive. 

To his shoulders. Also, fine. 

To his back, more than fine. He loved a good back rub. Although his wings were almost always in the ethereal plane, there was still something sensitive about his back that adored Crowley’s nimble fingers.

To his chest. This was where things started to get a bit dicey. Aziraphale pushed through it. 

To his stomach and hips. This was when Aziraphale went stiff as a board and pushed Crowley off him. He had felt him grab his substantial midsection and _squeeze_ and it was far too much. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley asked, clearly taken aback. Aziraphale had stood up and crossed his arms over the area. 

“Too fast,” he said softly, under his breath. He couldn’t even look into the wide golden eyes. 

“Right,” Crowley said, no hesitation in his voice. “I’m sorry. Would it be okay if we just continued to cuddle? I won’t try anything else.”

And Aziraphale was relieved even though he knew the demon would never force him to do anything he was uncomfortable with. Still, he didn’t want him to be disappointed in him, in their new relationship. If he was though, he gave no inclination as he wrapped a blanket around Aziraphale and held him for the rest of the night. 

Ever since then Crowley never let himself get too carried away. He made sure to ask Aziraphale at every turn of his mouth and hands. In fact, Aziraphale was becoming exasperated with how cautious and caring the demon was. Nevertheless, he appreciated Crowley’s respect for him immensely. 

They had become accustomed to a colour system. Crowley never made it to red, he was too careful for that. He never again let his hands wander towards his stomach. 

It wasn’t that Aziraphale was ashamed of his body. He had lived through ages where fat was a sign of wealth and prominence. He genuinely subscribed to the idea that all bodies were beautiful. It was a little harder when it was his own body, though. He often reminded himself that he was not human and couldn’t accurately compare himself to them. Instead, he remembered his incorporeal body in heaven. While not being fleshly, he distinctly remembers being _strong._ He was a perfect, heavenly soldier. He was powerful. He had felt beautiful in the eyes of God. But somewhere along the millenia the _strong_ that had turned into _smooth_ and eventually _soft_ made him feel less than ideal. He wasn’t perfect; he didn’t even know if he was considered an angel anymore. 

He had originally been created to be a pure vessel of grace and valour. Truthfully, his body had seen better days. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was the thought of disappointing Crowley. Crowley had confessed his feelings the day after the Ritz dinner. He had told Aziraphale how long he had been in love with him. It warmed his heart but Aziraphale was no fool. When one pines for such a long time, he begins to envision the individual in an idealistic, fantastical way. He knew because he had pined for a very long time, as well. Though, not as long as Crowley. However, most of Aziraphale’s daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing, not the other way around. 

Crowley was even sweeter than he anticipated. He knew he was sweet, of course. The demon had saved him enough times for him to get a good picture. Apparently, that was Crowley holding back. Aziraphale had become used to receiving bouquets of flowers and plates of pastries and elegant dinner dates and impromptu theatre tickets and sunlit picnics and more. Crowley was a true romantic. No novel Aziraphale had ever read, and he had read a lot, contained a love interest as thoughtful. Of course, this was in between constant teasing banter and the like but that only made it all the more charming to Aziraphale. 

Crowley also seemed quite, well... experienced. Aziraphale would be absurd to think his cherubic virginity could measure up to any number of his human lovers. 

Despite everything though, he could tell that Crowley still inexplicably _wanted_ him, _desired_ even. And after all the years of letting Crowley save him only to deny their friendship, he wanted to provide for him for a change. 

After deciding this, there was nothing that could stop Aziraphale from his objective. Not even his own insecurities. 

∻

“Let’s have a picnic, dear,” Aziraphale suggests. Crowley had just arrived at the bookshop, their usual nightly plans.

“Angel, it’s 8 at night. It’s already dark outside.”

“Oh, come on, dear. Indulge me. It’s warm enough this time of year and we can gaze at the stars.” Truthfully, Aziraphale was just trying to come up with the most romantic date possible. He wanted it perfect. 

“I’m not really hungry,” Crowley yawns, certainly not getting Aziraphale’s true purpose. He lazily plops on the couch. Aziraphale supposes it’s only fair. After all, Crowley usually plans the dates. Never explicitly, of course, because that would be too nice for a demon like him. Instead Crowley would show up the day of and inform Aziraphale that they have ‘plans’ and they both would pretend Crowley isn’t a doting boyfriend. 

“We’re going on a cute date and you are going to like it, Anthony J. Crowley!” insists Aziraphale. 

Crowley answers, surprised, “Okay, angel, let me put my coat back on.” Once he does, Aziraphale snaps his fingers and they find themselves in a secluded park. There’s a blanket atop the green grass with a quaint basket and bottle of chardonnay. Aziraphale pats the spot next to him on the blanket that he’s already laying on. Crowley stumbles down, disoriented from the sudden miracle. 

While Crowley looks up at the night sky Aziraphale opens the basket, producing chocolate covered strawberries. Crowley notices and snorts, staring at Aziraphale with a look that can only be described as adoration. Crowley lets the angel pop one into his willing mouth.

“You know, this is supposed to be an aphrodisiac,” Aziraphale proudly proclaims, taking his own bite. Crowley nearly chokes on the berry, looking at the smug angel next to him. Despite the various heavy petting in their relationship, hearing his friend discuss sexual matters always seemed to fluster him. Something about the thought of those pink, plump lips committing sacrilege on his heavenly tongue… It made Crowley shiver with delight. 

“I don’t need aphrodisiacs when I’m with you, angel,” says Crowley. Aziraphale squeaks. He feels nervous, but in a good way. He scoots closer to Crowley so that their bodies are in contact. He stares at the stars and sighs contentedly as Crowley puts his head on his shoulder. He simply nuzzles into him and cuddles. Any other day, Aziraphale would love this type of attention. But he has a goal.

He starts kissing around Crowley’s jaw, more fervently than normal. This gets his attention and he turns his head away from the sky to meet Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale is passionate with no plans to relent. He sucks on Crowley’s bottom lip and when he parts it he immediately pushes his tongue inside. He climbs atop Crowley, his hips between his knees. Their lips don’t leave each other as he moves, somewhat clumsily. It still doesn’t deter his ministrations. He begins to grind down into Crowley, making him release a low whine. The noise spurs Aziraphale on to slip his hands under Crowley’s jacket and slowly start sliding it off. 

“Angel,” Crowley groans. Aziraphale barely registers it between the feel of Crowley’s lips and his hips bucking up to meet him. 

“What?” he mumbles, the word muffled and cut off from the kisses he places on Crowley’s neck. The jacket is almost entirely off now, the sleeves stopping short at Crowley’s wrists. Aziraphale takes Crowley’s left hand and lifts it from its resting place on the blanket. He pulls off the rest of the left sleeve but keeps his hand up. He locks eyes with Crowley as he guides his thumb into his waiting mouth. 

“Fffffuck, angel.” The warmth surrounding Crowley’s finger feels better than it ought to. But Aziraphale has never been so bold before and it worries him. “Angel, stop.” And Crowley stops moving, his concern for the angel more important than his bodily desires. 

Aziraphale halts his actions and looks down, searching Crowley’s anxious eyes. “I’m sorry.” He moves his leg to get off of Crowley and resumes his former position on the blanket. “I should've known this wouldn’t work. I couldn’t be sexy even when I tried.”

Crowley is bewildered and has to sit up, wincing at how tight and uncomfortable his jeans are feeling. “What are you talking about, angel?” he asks. Aziraphale avoids his eyes and continues to lay down.

“I just wanted our first time to be special. But I don’t quite know what I’m doing,” Aziraphale admits. Crowley softens. The confession feels like a pinprick right to his corporation’s heart. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathes, “you are plenty sexy.” This time Aziraphale reaches his eyes, finding no dishonesty in them. He sits up.

“Then why don’t you want to have sex with me?” he practically whines. As serious as Crowley is trying to be he suddenly feels smug and wanting all at the same time. But his angel is still being daft.

“Of course I want to have sex with you, Aziraphale. I just… I didn’t think you would ever want to…” he trails off. Aziraphale crosses his arms.

“Well, I do.”

“Angel, I don’t want you to do something just because I want it. I never want you to be uncomfortable,” Crowley replies. 

“I said I want it,” Aziraphale pouts. Stubborn angel.

“I never ever want you to feel like you need to do this for me. You know I’ll still love you just as much even if all you do is kiss me for the rest of eternity. Or just be with me, dammit. You don’t even have to touch me just… don’t sacrifice your comfort for my own selfish desires.”

Aziraphale feels so much love for him at that moment he doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know how to explain that he would do anything for him. Doesn’t know how to explain that he shares those same sinful desires.

“Wait, angel. Did you plan out all this,” says Crowley, vaguely gesturing to their surroundings, “to seduce me?”

Aziraphale blushes. “Yes, and I thought it was going super well…” He looks at the ground. 

“It was.” A pause. “ It is,” Crowley corrects. He sighs and wipes his hand down his face. With a snap of his finger they are again in the bookshop. 

“Why’d you do that?” Aziraphale questions. Crowley sits on the couch and pats the spot next to him. Aziraphale obeys the silent command, albeit reluctantly.

“I want to be home when I tell you that I don’t need anything from you, Aziraphale. I just want you to be happy,” Crowley states, pulling the angel’s hands into his. Aziraphale leans to kiss him, not as ardent as before but with the same amount of fondness and affection. When he leans back Crowley is slow to open his eyes.

“Okay, I may have lied. I do need your attention as well,” he jokes. They both give a short laugh. “But that doesn’t change what I said. I know how upset it made you when I touched too far. I never want to make you feel that way again. I kind of always assumed you’d be a sexually deviant angel.” Aziraphale gasps and swats his arm.

“Hey, you are the biggest hedonist I know!” Crowley defends himself. Then he takes a deep breath. “But I never even asked and I’m sorry. As far as I know you could still be as asexual as any other angel. Although, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are sporting _something_ big down there.” Crowley looks down at the angel’s trousers and Aziraphale flushes red.

“Honestly, I only made it after I started dating you,” he confesses, bright red and feeling caught. The thought of his angel making an Effort for _him_ makes Crowley’s insides ache. 

“Angel,” he moans, “you make it hard to keep up my willpower. I’m a demon; this is just unnatural and cruel.”

“Good!” Aziraphale exclaims. “I want you to lose your willpower.” Crowley quirks an eyebrow. “I guess I should start being honest about some things. Well, as you now guessed, I’m a virgin. I don’t know how to... pleasure you. And I know I don’t have the best body and whatnot and I just don’t want to disappoint you and ruin your expectations,” he rambles. He can hardly face Crowley. 

“Angel, look at me,” Crowley pleads, squeezing his hands. He does. “Firstly, I don’t care that you’ve never been with anyone before. Do you judge me for having sex in the past?”

Aziraphale shakes his head.

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter what we did or didn’t do in the past. I’d be more than happy to guide you and laugh with you and give you advice and praise.” He feels himself smiling at the thought. “Secondly, your body is perfect-”

“Don’t say that. It’s too big and soft for an angel,” Aziraphale interrupts. The idea itself makes Crowley mad.

“Let me finish,” he grits. Aziraphale nods, composing himself. “I don’t see you as being ‘big’ but I know that’s how you see yourself and I can’t change that. But I will say that whatever size you are, whatever corporation you occupy, I will always find you attractive because you’re you. You’re Aziraphale. I will admit though, I am quite fond of this corporation.” He pauses to look his angel up and down, admiring everything he sees. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to squeeze your stomach?” He doesn’t miss the way Aziraphale cringes inwardly at that. He quickly adds, “and I know that’s scary territory for you but I need you to hear this. I see those cute little rolls of your stomach and I want to just feel them in my hands. I bet they’re so smooth. You’re like a soft pillow. You’re so comfortable when I’m about to fall asleep at night and my head is on you. You’re warm and soft and curvy and I could just be held in that forever.” He pauses to look at Aziraphale’s overcome face. “I’ve gone off like an idiot, haven’t I?” he chuckles. 

Aziraphale blinks away a stray tear on his face. “No, dear. I just don’t know what to say. I’m so lucky to have you.” He pauses to take a breath, steeling himself. “And oh, how I want you, Crowley. I may not know what I’m doing but I know I want you, if you’ll have me.”

“That’s not even a question,” Crowley scoffs. Aziraphale pushes forward to capture his lips again but Crowley pulls back.

“Angel. Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asks. Aziraphale nods, already beginning to tug at Crowley’s black shirt. To his dismay, Crowley stops him with his hands. 

“Aziraphale. You have to look me in the eyes and tell me explicitly that you want this. Tell me you’re not just doing this for me. Tell me that you’ll let me see you, all of you.” His tone is authoritative and unyielding. 

Aziraphale pouts and looks up. “I want you, Crowley. And it’s not just for you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I want to conquer my fears with you. I want you to see all of me.”

Crowley is impressed with the determination in his eyes. Aziraphale resumes ridding him of his shirt. This time, Crowley lets him as he continues to explore his mouth. 

“Bed. Now,” Crowley commands, not unkindly. Aziraphale pauses to snap his fingers and they find themselves in a queen bed upstairs. They’ve never used it before and Crowley is pretty sure Aziraphale has never used it either. He’s hoping to change that. 

Aziraphale starts to unbutton Crowley’s jeans, after running his hand down his bare chest. Without pushing them down he cups Crowley over his underpants. He can tell Aziraphale is enjoying himself but he’s also jittery and fumbling. Crowley halts him once again.

“Angel,” he starts, “I want tonight to be about you. I know you’re nervous about what to do and I think it’ll be easier to show you this time. Is that okay with you?”

“Thank you, dear,” he says, grateful. He leans back and sighs, trying to quell the storm inside his stomach. Crowley gingerly pulls at his bowtie. It’s so slow and Aziraphale doesn’t want to feel every part being exposed. He wants to rip it off like a band-aid. Jump into the cold water. He shuts his eyes and snaps his fingers. 

“Naughty angel. I wanted to take my time with you. Savour it,” Crowley says. Aziraphale still won’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to see himself and wonder how it looks in Crowley’s eyes. 

“Hey, hey, angel,” he addresses him soothingly. He lays next to Aziraphale on his stomach and runs his hand through his blonde curls. He can feel the clammy skin. “I want you to open your eyes. Please.”

Aziraphale doesn’t listen as Crowley patiently rubs his head. Crowley lets his hand wander down Aziraphale’s forehead, then cheeks, then jaw, then neck, his other hand joining in. He smooths his thumbs over the soft skin and relishes in it. It makes him feel calm, able to take control of this situation. 

“Okay, you don’t have to open them until you’re ready. But since you can’t see right now, I have no choice but to describe what I’m looking at.” An exasperated groan comes from Aziraphale. Crowley positions himself so he is straddling him, but not touching him yet, besides his hands. He tries not to focus on the hot cock below him, half-hard. He wants Aziraphale to understand how beautiful he is and not just in a sexual way. So he starts at the top. 

“Your hair,” he says, resuming playing with the curls. He loves the sensation of digging his fingers in and feeling the softness. “Your hair was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met. It’s so bright, just like the rest of you. It’s like you always have a halo on your head.” He notices Aziraphale’s eyelids not clenched so tight anymore and smiles. 

“Your nose.” He gently runs his index finger down the slope of it. “I didn’t know noses could be attractive until I met you. It’s got this unique curve and shape to it and I don’t know how to explain it but it suits you well.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows are no longer taut and he pecks the tip of his nose.

“Your eyes.” Despite Aziraphale’s still being closed, Crowley can picture them as clear as day. “Now I know they’re a clear blue but sometimes in the dark, they seem like the colour of the depths of the ocean. Or they look grey when you’re outside on a rainy London morning. Sometimes they look as green as my plants. Every time I look at you, angel, there’s something new to fawn over.” 

“Your cheeks. Now you may be thinking ‘they’re just normal cheeks, Crowley’ but you’d be wrong. Something magical happens to them when you smile. They get all round and fluffy and pink and I just want to kiss them.” He proves his point by pressing a soft kiss to each, causing Aziraphale to smile despite himself. “Exactly, just like that. I love when I can make them blush, angel.”

Crowley places a kiss on his lips next, barely there. “Your lips are pink and as soft as I always imagined they would be. I imagined them a lot over the decades. How they’d feel against mine.” He rubs his thumb over Aziraphale’s bottom lip, trying to memorize every dip and curve and line. “I even love watching you eat. All the things I’ve seen pass between those lips and all the obscene moans they’ve let out during dinners.” Aziraphale snickers. Crowley is pleased with his progress. 

“Your chin,” he says, thumb sliding down, “is marvelous. It just has this subtle way of sticking out just enough and it makes your side profile quite attractive.” Aziraphale giggles at that, getting giddy from all the attention. It feels silly, no one had ever complimented his chin before. 

Crowley slides one hand to cup Aziraphale’s throat, not squeezing but enough pressure to feel the intake of breath. He says, “even though you don’t have to breathe, I like knowing you do. Like knowing you’re here with me in the flesh. You’re not up there with those arseholes, all... intangible and ethereal.” Aziraphale’s breathing is less shallow than before. 

His hands move down his shoulders and to his chest. He takes his time, stopping at some freckles to poke them especially. “Your skin is so smooth and warm and soft. No blemishes, just milky skin everywhere the eye looks. Your freckles,” he kisses some on his left shoulder, “break up the color nicely. Sweet little spots that are sprinkled across you.” He pauses to connect them like dots. “I want to categorize all of them.” He trails the freckles down his arms, ending up at his wrists. 

“Your hands,” Crowley states. “They’re soft. A bookkeeper’s hands.” He grins as he watches Aziraphale’s lips twitch. He goes on, “but they’re strong, steady, and solid. Holding them makes me happy.” He lets his fingers linger along the creases on his palms. Aziraphale squeezes back and Crowley knows he’s got his full attention. 

“Angel,” he whispers, “can I touch your stomach?” Aziraphale nods after a moment of thought and holds his breath in anxious anticipation. “If you change your mind, speak up,” Crowley tells him. 

He lowers himself so his eyesight is level with the area he is focusing on. His tentative hands are placed on Aziraphale’s sides, above his hips. He doesn’t want to scare him off prematurely with coarse groping. He lets his palms rest there, transferring his heat while Aziraphale’s breathing becomes less erratic. He starts by moving his thumbs back and forth. 

“Colour?” Crowley asks.

“G-green,” Aziraphale stutters. Crowley isn’t sure he believes him but knows it’s the best he’ll get.

“It’s kind of embarrassing how often I want to touch you here. I feel like all your warmth centers here and sometimes I just want to be a snake and lay here forever.” He starts rubbing his hands in small circles. “I love your curves, angel. You’re so different from me. I’m all lanky and sharp lines and you have all this shape and definition.” He starts kneading. “It reminds me of how passionate you get over your food. I love that you found something in this world worth saving it for. It still excites you after millenia of eating. It’s adorable.” He briefly notes the blush on his cheeks above and is emboldened by the serenity on his face.

A kiss above his belly button. To the right and the left, then below it. He feels the body below him shudder and the cock twitch. He smirks and his hands become more mobile. “I absolutely adore your soft, little pudge. You’re everything I could have ever wanted. You are so beautiful, Aziraphale. Perfect. Holy. Divine.” By this time his hands are squeezing and rubbing and just _feeling_. Feeling it all. He tries to get his mouth on every inch in between his words. Some soft kisses, some sloppy, some all tongue and teeth. “ _God_ , angel,” he grunts. “I love feeling you and holding you. I love knowing I'm the only one with permission to touch you under all those layers of fancy ancient clothes.”

Aziraphale is squirming as Crowley drags his hands lower down. “Wait,” Aziraphale interrupts him, eyes still shut. “I just- I know I have stretch marks and I don’t want you to be turned off. I can miracle them-”

“Don’t!” Crowley shouts and cuts him off by grasping the hand he was beginning to raise for a snap. “Angel, angel, angel,” he sighs, “I think you should know by now that I love them. I love all of them.” He traces the thick lines with his fingers down his lower stomach and waist, towards his hips. He marvels at the feel of the indents and how some lines are thicker than others. Some are pinkish and some are barely a light white. Tender and delicate kisses are placed on them, ranging from his sides to below his hip line. Aziraphale’s awe and wonderment is replaced with more lust when the kisses reach closer and closer to where his length starts.

He moves his hands to the front of Aziraphale’s plush thighs. Every now and then he rubs his inner thighs only to quickly move to his outer thigh again, making him whine. “These thighs,” he sighs, trying to swallow down his arousal although it gets more difficult with every second. “They’re so pretty and thick and _ngk_ you’re so sexy, angel.” He delicately pinches the skin on his inner thigh at the same time. Aziraphale is positively vibrating. “You don’t know how many times I’ve come in my own hand imagining you squeezing my head between them while I choke on your cock.” Aziraphale gasps but it ends in a moan. He can’t help but buck up into the air, unsatisfied with the lack of friction. 

“Liked that, did you, angel?” Crowley teases. “Not tonight but someday, don’t you worry.” He starts to leave a hickey on his upper thigh enjoying the way he can’t keep still. Satisfied with his mark, he trails wet kisses down to his knee. Aziraphale fusses, vexed at the audacity of Crowley to skip over his cock that is in current need of his attention. 

Crowley tsks and says, “I need to mention one more thing. Do you remember that day in the Bastille? I saved you from certain decapitation. Asking for it, popping into France like that. You looked like a perfect present wrapped up just for me. Those pretty pink stockings…” He draws his hands from Aziraphale’s knees to his ankles, noticing the way goose pimples follow his graze. “And those prissy buckle shoes. I wanted to undress you and take you in that cell.” He kisses the bottom of both feet as Aziraphale giggles from the ticklish sensation. 

“Now,” he starts, moving up yet again. “This cock.” He breathes over it. “Although this is the first time I’ve seen it, I already love it as much as the rest of you. It’s shorter than mine but thicker,” he groans, palming himself. Aziraphale almost opens his eyes out of curiosity but holds himself back. Just the sound of Crowley touching himself is making him twitch. “I can’t wait to feel it in my mouth.” A stifled groan leaves Aziraphale’s lips. 

Crowley removes all points of contact and says nothing, building Aziraphale’s anticipation. He selfishly lets his gaze wander and admire while the angel wiggles and huffs. Everything he told him was the truth and looking over him again he feels the familiar swell of affection. He moves in on Aziraphale again, careful not to make too much commotion. 

He delays no longer as he pops the head in his mouth and sucks. Aziraphale cries out in pleasure, forgetting himself as his eyes fly open. _Finally._ Crowley catches his eyes as he moves his mouth lower and winks. Aziraphale blushes but keeps his eyes open and on Crowley, the way his cock disappears inside his mouth. It’s wet and warm and as someone who’s only owned a penis for a short time he’s never felt anything like it before. Crowley swirls his tongue and moves up and down and sucks and licks and he never knew human bodies could feel so much all at once. 

He works his way to deepthroating Aziraphale, his nose hitting the skin of his pubis. He thinks of how his only purpose tonight is to bring Aziraphale comfort and pleasure. The thought makes him moan and the vibrations send Aziaphale reeling. While he had been content to lay idle with his eyes closed before, he now strains to get a clear view of Crowley. He’s mesmerized by the way he seems to be lost in the act, focusing solely on his cock and how to maneuver his mouth on it. His face is flushed and his hair looks like he ran a hand through it one too many times. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with just how lucky he is again. He blearily realizes he’s not worried about how his belly must look from Crowley’s perspective below. He’s too busy enjoying his own view. 

Crowley lines the prominent vein on the bottom of his member with his tongue. He can tell Aziraphale is close by the way he’s panting and murmuring his name repeatedly. He tries something new by taking one of his balls inside his mouth and sucking. He continues fondling both of them while his mouth resumes its attention on his glans. Aziraphale whimpers as he comes for the first time. His hands grab at Crowley’s hair and neck and he greedily tugs without registering his own actions. 

Crowley had performed fellatio on a number of lovers in the past but he wasn’t particularly fond of swallowing. That was different with his angel. He wanted to prove that he desired all of him and he would be lying if he said just the taste of Aziraphale alone didn’t turn him on. When he felt the first hot spurt hit his tongue and throat he closed his eyes and felt spots dancing in his vision. He wasn’t sure if it was because it was Aziraphale and Aziraphale was _his_ or if it was because it was Aziraphale and Aziraphale was an angel. It tasted salty like any human’s semen but surely a divine being’s essence was ambrosial. 

He swallowed all that was given him while Aziraphale tried to slow his rapid breathing. Crowley pushed himself up to get a better face-to-face view with him. He stared at his lidded eyes; knowing he had given him that pleasure sent more arousal to his gut. He licked his lips, getting the last taste of his angel. The visual made Aziraphale groan, his cock already interested again. 

“Crowley… that was…” Aziraphale tries breathlessly. Crowley chuckles and a small peck is pressed to the corner of his mouth.

“Shh, angel. I’m going to take care of you,” he promises. “For this next part I want you to lay on your stomach, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Aziraphale wordlessly obliges by rolling over clumsily, his legs still feeling too viscous to move well. He grips the pillow by his head, not sure what he’s waiting for. He trusts Crowley though and he feels his anxiety from earlier flow from fear into excitement. He’s vaguely aware he’s wiggling his ass and thighs in eager anticipation and an attempt at relief from his hardening cock. Crowley gently presses his hands on his hips stilling him as he lets out a whine of frustration and impatience. 

“We haven’t gone over this yet, angel. Be patient.” Making Aziraphale into an obedient partner is becoming his new source of arousal. The usual fussy and petulant attitude of the angel being coerced into something more calm and attentive. To be the giver and withholder of his pleasure is intoxicating. He’s been on the watching end of his insatiable pursuits of pleasure his whole life. To hold the power behind it makes him feel important and needed. That’s the most he could ever ask of his angel. And, luckily for Aziraphale, he loves to indulge him in his cravings. Crowley keeps one hand on Aziraphale’s hip to steady him as the other makes its descent from neck to lower back. He just barely grazes his fingers over the flesh, leaving a tingly feeling in his wake. He presses into the spots where he knows the angel’s wings live.

“Angel, can I see your wings?” he whispers, removing his hands from the creamy skin. And Aziraphale must be too ravished to complain because he immediately retrieves them from the ethereal plane. Although Crowley has his own set of wings he finds himself overwhelmed by how much space they take up in all their bright glory. There’s so much area to touch and he knows he can’t relish it all tonight, not with his angel humming beneath him. He settles for gliding his hands from base to tip for now. The feathers are softer than his normal hair and he gets the feeling that this, _this_ is the real Aziraphale. As real as he can be in his human form anyways. He’s never touched his wings before. After all, it’s a personal matter and a sensitive area. He doesn’t know if or when he’ll be able to again so he dives his fingers in and massages at the base. Aziraphale lets out a loud moan and the sound rushes straight to Crowley’s groin. 

Suddenly, the wings are gone and Aziraphale is whimpering, “please, love. Please touch me. I need you.”

“You’re in luck because we’ve made it to your ass,” Crowley giggles. He palms the cheeks in his hands and gently squeezes, releasing his own moan. “Wow, I- _ngk_.” He’s at a loss for words feeling the supple fat as Aziraphale pushes back up against him. “How could you ever believe you’re not sexy, Aziraphale?” he asks, genuinely baffled.

“Mmm,” is the response he gets back.

“Colour?” he checks.

“Green, green, green,” Aziraphale assures him impatiently. 

“Your bum is soft and squishy and round and I can’t believe I get to hold it in my hands.” He stares down at his hands grasping and rubbing in amazement. It compels him further, giving him the heady rush that tells him to _keep going_ and _more._ He nibbles at the bottom of one cheek and Aziraphale twitches below him, giving way to a long, low whine. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” Crowley praises him, causing another higher pitched whine. He pulls apart the cheeks a couple times, getting Aziraphale used to the feeling before diving in. His tongue circles the rim, laps over it and licks down his perineum. It has been said before that Crowley’s serpentine tongue could do weird things and Aziraphale was learning that first hand. He groaned in the pillow, overwrought with the new sensation. He didn’t know what he wanted or why he couldn’t stop pushing back into Crowley’s tongue but he knew he liked it. In the back of his mind he knew some part of him should be slightly humiliated by the act. Both having his asshole licked and enjoying it so much that he continually pushed himself more on Crowley’s mouth. However, he lost his pious sensibilities a long time ago. When his tongue finally pushed inside his hole after minutes of glorious torture he cried out. The tongue was longer than a human ought to have and more deft at moving. Each time the forked end licked deeper and deeper inside him, opening him up, he thought the pleasure couldn’t get any better until it did. Crowley would occasionally lick down to his balls and tease him everywhere before finally dipping back in again. It was driving him mad. 

“Crowley, I need-” Aziraphale’s words are stopped by his gasp as Crowley pushes in the tip of his index finger alongside his tongue. He knew the sensation of his first time would be strange and overwhelming but he didn’t expect to like the pressure of something inside him so much. He was thrilled at the prospect of Crowley’s cock being inside him. He could think of little else so he forces himself to relax his body as much as possible and take deep breaths, trying to make Crowley’s job easier for him. Crowley adds the second finger.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me, angel. You’re so tight. So pretty,” he says while speeding up the thrusts of his fingers. He can tell Aziraphale likes the praise by the way he clenches around his fingers. He scissors them while lapping around anywhere his tongue will reach, wanting it to be as relaxing as possible for him. All the little noises Aziraphale makes are making him feel weightless and drowsy and yearning all at the same time. He pushes in the third finger as soon as he feels Aziraphale is ready. He can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of him sucking his fingers in again and again. Patience wearing thin, he grinds against the bed searching for any sense of relief. It’s not enough. How could it be when there’s a literal angel falling apart on his fingers beneath him?

“Angel, do you think you’re ready to take me?” he asks, still incredibly concerned. He’s afraid Aziraphale will never want to do this again. Even more so, he’s terrified of hurting him. Aziraphale rolls over and grabs his hands, kissing him on the cheek.

“My dear, I’ve been ready for a long time now. I promise. I love you,” he says, staring into his amber eyes. Crowley doesn’t know what to say but he feels so much, probably more than a demon should be capable of. He kisses Aziraphale passionately, trying to communicate all his emotions into the act. 

“How do you want me?” Aziraphale asks, looking far too innocent for the circumstances. Crowley is sure his excitement and affection is plain in his face, something he doesn’t let happen very often. Crowley lays on his back, his head on the pillow. 

“I want you to ride me,” he states unceremoniously. Aziraphale lets out a little squeal and flushes yet makes no movement towards Crowley. “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable but… I want to be able to see all of you, all of this body.” Crowley is surprised he can still make him blush giving what they’d just done moments prior. “I want to see you take your own pleasure.”

Aziraphale isn’t sure why but it was _hot_ and he was done hesitating over how heavy he’d be and how he’d look bouncing and sweaty. He situated himself over Crowley and felt that prickle of fear resurface on the back of his neck. After deciding he was definitely going to bed Crowley he may or may not have read various articles on the matter. They all said anal sex could be incredibly painful on the receiving end. He tried to remind himself that he was properly prepared but Crowley must’ve already noticed his hesitation. 

“Angel, do you need time? Or to stop? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Crowley insists. Aziraphale’s heart soars and swells at the look of concern in his eyes, the way he quickly sat up to examine him. He knows he’s made the right choice. Aziraphale doesn’t answer him. Instead he grabs Crowley’s cock and looks down, trying to align himself to sit on it. Aziraphale taking matters into his own hands has Crowley leaning back again, suddenly out of breath. It’s technically the first time Aziraphale has actually touched his naked cock and the look of his small pale hand circling his tanner length coupled with the soft and warm sensation makes him groan. 

With the tip finally resting at his hole, Azirphale let out a breath and forces himself down slightly. The pressure of just his tip inside was exquisite. He pauses in increments to breathe and get used to the feeling of fullness before moving down another inch. Crowley can’t help but pay rapt attention to the sight in front of him. He has to take his mind off his dick in order not to force Aziraphale down and staring at him is the next best thing. His face was scrunched up in concentration, red and raw as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. Staring at Aziraphale only made the situation more torturous for Crowley. He bit his lip as Aziraphale settled onto the last two inches, much easier than the first few. He could feel Aziraphale’s bottom on his thighs, finally. He snakes his hand behind Aziraphale and palms his ass and squeezes, utterly enchanted. The feeling of him in his hands and the tight warmth all around his length is overwhelming. He groans and meets Aziraphale’s forehead with his own. He too seems to be captivated with the situation he finds himself in, not quite able to move yet. They breathe harshly with each other, Crowley’s hands soothing over his hips and back, more for his own benefit than Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale cups Crowley’s face in his hands, searching for the familiar in the unknown bodily sensations. He’s adjusting but he feels entranced. He’d never liked feeling full in the past. It meant that he could no longer eat whatever he was gorging on and that he probably overdid it awhile back. He felt full now but not in the same way. It was almost like the first time he ate in his human corporation, perfect fruit at the Garden. He remembers thinking he’d been missing out in heaven all those years. If he had never eaten he thinks he wouldn’t have ever had to. But it was after that first bite that Aziraphale had sealed his fate as a glutton. After tasting something so delicious, how could he go back to before? He remembers the first time he truly feasted, once humankind advanced enough to store food. The nobles had plenty of it and he certainly enjoyed being invited to their fanciful festivities. After his first buffet he thought he might never have to eat again, he was so full. However, he found he was never satisfied for in a day’s time he felt those cravings again. 

He idly wondered if Crawly had been there to tempt him all along, that Eve was just a scapegoat. The fruit was only the beginning and it had led to this moment, he was sure of it. He didn’t mind. After finally feeling full, full of _Crowley_ , he knows he’s been yearning for something since that day. There’s no going back and he fears he’ll be insatiable for the rest of his existence. Maybe full wasn’t the most accurate word though, it was more like being complete. Two halves of one whole finally reuniting after millenia. He thinks God must have created them from the same particles and atoms before changing Her mind and splitting them apart. Maybe them coming together was a part of the Ineffable Plan all along. And maybe it wasn’t but he found he couldn’t care either way. It only mattered to him that Crowley made him feel whole, maybe for the first time since time had begun. 

He sat in silence thinking about how Crowley _belongs_ inside him. And he inside Crowley. He lets the sensation of _full_ and _complete_ and _whole_ radiate through his entire body until he feels like he’s on fire. He abruptly kisses Crowley then moves up until only the tip is inside him. Crowley looks like he’s about to coddle him again until he sits back down again, moaning as he goes. 

“Ngk.”

Aziraphale wastes no more time and picks up his pace. Whenever his legs get tired from the effort he alternates to swirling his hips around Crowley’s dick. Crowley is starting to think he may just transcend back into Heaven. He feels heat and slick and soft each time his cock sinks deeper inside his partner. He liked sex before, of course he did. But he didn’t think it could feel this good. Was it because there was a literal angel on top of him? Or was it because he loved Aziraphale more than anything in the universe? 

He’s already addicted to the sight before him; it’s even better than he had imagined. Aziraphale’s eyes are closed, but not in shame. He was simply enjoying himself so much that he couldn't be bothered to open them at the moment. He was sweating more now, the red flush of sex all over his body. The hickeys on his neck were fully formed. He looked more care-free and loose than Crowley had ever seen him. He felt complacent knowing this view was reserved solely for him. That he was the only being to undo his persnickety angel. His belly was bunching up in rolls as he bounced up and down. He couldn’t tear his eyes from him as he groped all over his body. He felt an urge he hadn’t felt since he was an angel. The urge to worship and revere and praise and laud. Except this time it wasn’t the Lord, it was an 178 cm angel with an affinity for tartan and antique books. He wanted to get on his knees every night and worship at his altar. He wanted to love every piece of him and then start all over again. He wanted to be smothered by him until he couldn’t breathe. He held onto his chest as he lapped over a nipple. He could feel his surprise in the way he gasped into his touch. He licked and sucked before moving to the other nipple. Aziraphale was making little whines that made his cock pulse. 

He belatedly realizes he’s made Aziraphale do all the work so he grabs onto his butt and hips and holds him there as he pounds up into him. It takes Aziraphale by surprise as he moans and throws his head back. Crowley knows he’s hitting his prostate by the way his eyes seem to roll into the back of his head and the way he’s calling Crowley’s name at each thrust. 

“Crowley, darling, I’m gonna come,” Aziraphale pants. The idea of Aziraphale coming untouched and for the second time has him ready himself.

“Come for me, angel. I know you can do it. I love you so much, Aziraphale. You’re so beautiful.” And Aziraphale comes undone, moaning unintelligible phrases and clenching around Crowley’s cock. White cum splatters on Crowley’s stomach and he shivers in delight.

“Can I come inside you?” he rasps. Aziraphale’s cock is still spurting as he groans.

“Fuck, Crowley, please,” he whines. He’s pretty sure he’ll never get used to his angel swearing and begging. It shreds the last bit of resistance he has. He’s moaning and coming and he can tell Aziraphale is over-sensitive by the way he whimpers and squirms on his cock. It feels good to come inside him, knowing he’s the first. The only. 

Aziraphale can barely handle the sensation. The sticky feeling of _Crowley_ so deep inside him. Despite his lethargy, a pang of arousal goes straight to his cock. He groans and tries to focus on that feeling of completeness before it leaves. But he knows that even when Crowley slips out, he’ll still have a piece of him inside. Something to keep him whole. He shudders knowing his insides are marked and now belong to Crowley just as much as the rest of him. It doesn’t scare him, on the contrary he welcomes the belonging. He never felt like he belonged in Heaven with the other angels and although he knows he belongs on Earth he could never belong with humans. _This, here, now_ , this was his true belonging. This was home. 

Crowley maneuvers the both of them on their sides on the bed and his softening cock slides out, along with the cooling wetness Aziraphale was growing accustomed to. It makes him whine but Crowley seems to know how he’ll feel before it happens and is already kissing him on his damp forehead after rolling him so they’re facing each other. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale says, smiling. He’s tired but he feels giddy and slightly spellbound. He kisses his best friend, languid and satisfied. 

“Anytime, angel,” he says, pulling an arm over Aziraphale. They lay together in a comfortable silence, Aziraphale’s head on his chest.

“Crowley,” he whispers.

“Mmm.” Crowley’s eyes are closed, content and ready for a long night's rest.

“Can I be inside you next time?” he asks innocently, without preamble. Crowley immediately opens his eyes, far less tired than a moment ago. 

“Oh my god, yes, angel, yes,” he says, squeezing his arm tighter and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

  
  
  


∻

  
  


_Soft._

That’s how he felt since his first time with Crowley. But Crowley loved all his softness and he belonged with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of doing a companion piece but instead of Chubby Aziraphale it's Snake Crowley


End file.
